


If you're gonna let me down, let me down gently

by Kacka



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 15:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: Jyn is aggressively uninterested in meeting her soulmate. To be fair, she's also just generally aggressive.





	If you're gonna let me down, let me down gently

Jyn is being watched.

She knows she is, can't shake the feeling of eyes on her back, but every time she glances out of the corner of her eye or takes a surreptitious peek in the mirror, whoever it is that's been eyeing her has conveniently looked away.

She keeps pummeling the sparring dummy, the attention stoking the flames of her already heightened annoyance. It's been kind of a shitty day, beginning with the hot water in her crappy apartment having been turned off for the fourth time this week, and ending with her manager at Starbucks-- a nineteen year old who thinks he's better than her just because he's in college and she's not-- reaming her out.

Admittedly, the way she acted wasn't the _most_ professional. On the other hand, when a customer decided that her busing and wiping down tables was an indication she wanted her ass grabbed, she took that as an indication he wanted a knee to the balls. Unfortunately, her douchecanoe of a manager didn't buy her _he was asking for it_ defense, and she's pretty sure she's going to get fired.

So she wails on the dummy until her hair sticks to her sweaty forehead and her fists ache and hopes the asshole ogling her gets the message that she isn't someone to be trifled with. Not anytime, and especially not in the mood she's in today.

Of course, that's when hands come up to hold the dummy still. She startles, glaring on instinct at the guy before her. He has dark hair, a neat beard, and sharp eyes that make her want to check on her wallet.

"What?" She snaps instead, crossing her arms and trying to mask how heavily she's breathing.

"I'm looking for a sparring partner." His voice is softer than she thought it would be, his accent giving it a lilt that makes her insides lurch.

"I'm not."

He cocks his head. "Are you sure? One of the trainers said we might be well-matched."

Jyn's eyes drift to the desk where Chirrut is perched, waiting for his next client to arrive. She can see his soul mark-- a series of overlapping shapes on his collarbone that form a sort of abstract geometrical design-- peeking out from beneath his tank top. His husband Baze has a matching one on his neck, and she's sure if she scoured the weight machines looking for him, she'd be able to spot it.

Chirrut grins and waves in her direction as if he _knows_  she's looking. Her lips twitch. It's spooky that he always seems to know, but she's pretty used to it by now.

"And," the guy adds, drawing her attention back. "It looked like the training equipment could use a break."

She scowls. "I won't go any easier on you."

He merely lifts his eyebrows. "I would never ask you to."

"Fine," she huffs. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

He follows her into the room with the padded floor, where there are already some other pairs sparring, and they stake out an empty spot in the corner.

She sizes up her opponent while he wraps his hands, methodical and careful in a way that Jyn never is. She glances down at her disheveled appearance, her own shoddy wrapping job, knows her hair is barely contained in its ponytail. For half a moment, she considers trying to put herself back in order, but then she catches herself thinking that and finds herself rankling against him again.

For his part, he doesn't seem to notice. Just finishes tucking the wrap in and faces her, both of them beginning to circle each other as he stretches out his arms.

Jyn intends to wait for him to strike first. It was his idea to spar, after all. But in the end, his patience lasts longer than hers, and she finds herself lashing out the way Baze taught her: a quick, sharp jab he easily parries. She attacks again and he dodges. Again, and he blocks her blow. He's light on his feet, never drops his stance, never lets himself get caught off guard.

It's completely aggravating.

"You were the one who wanted to spar," she snaps at last, and that's when he makes his move: two quick moves in succession, which she only narrowly avoids.

She tries to counter him and he catches her arm, twisting it behind her. Not to be outdone, she leverages her weight and flips him over one of her shoulders. He lands on his back, the wind knocked out of him. Before she can scramble to pin him, he rolls out of the way.

They grapple for the upper hand for a long while, longer than Jyn expects, yet it's not until the end that she notices he's still mostly on the defensive. Not as if he's letting her win, by any means, but almost as if he saw the frustration she was taking out on the dummy and decided the dummy wasn't putting up enough of a fight.

It's more cathartic than she'd like to admit.

He finally gets the better of her, knocking her feet out from beneath her and sending her sprawling. She's too exhausted to get back up quickly. She lies there on the mat, panting heavily and staring up at the ceiling. When he comes to stand over her, invading her line of sight and offering a friendly hand to help her up, she grabs it and yanks. It might be a petty move, but he's chuckling when he lands on his ass, head bowed in good-natured defeat.

"Not bad," she admits at last, pushing herself up on her elbows. He offers a small smile, the kind that feels genuine and hard to come by.

"The trainer was right. We are pretty evenly matched."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," she grumbles. "If I hadn't worn myself out on the dummy, I could've taken you down."

"Maybe." He pauses. "Care for a rematch?"

"My arms feel like jelly. I'd be useless to go again now."

"How about Thursday?"

Jyn considers. It _was_ pretty fun to fight with him. And he doesn't seem to be trying to pick her up or anything. And she can always back out later.

"Okay," she says at last. "Thursday."

He nods and stands, wiping his hands on his pants. "Good. I'll see you then--"

"Jyn."

"Jyn." He nods again, this time to himself. "Cassian."

"Pleasure."

He smiles at her, a little bigger this time. "The pleasure's mine."

* * *

It isn't until she gets to the locker room and catches sight of herself in the mirror that she finds she's forgotten to put on the armband she uses to cover her soul mark.

* * *

Jyn is, to say the least, _wary_ about the whole 'soulmate' thing.

For one thing, she's never handled being told what to do well. The idea that something-- the universe, her genes, whatever it is that makes the marks appear sometime late in one's teenage years-- should dictate any part of her life chafes against her, raises her hackles.

She's also, as a person, slow to trust others and defaults to extreme independence. What gives some mysterious force the right to decide that she's not enough for herself? That she needs someone else? That she might be incomplete?

It hadn't worried her much growing up. Her father's mark, a tight cluster of stars on his wrist that matched the one on her mother's ankle, had always fascinated her. Soul marks, unlike normal tattoos, gleamed ever so slightly when they caught the light in the right way, and it mesmerized her as a child to see those stars twinkling like the real thing. Galen would tease her, poking at the freckles on her nose and cheeks and telling her that they were stardust scattered by his and Lyra's marks.

And then when they died, she figured that was it. They had been her soulmates; she could never imagine loving anyone more than she had loved them. It was the only reasonable explanation for the gaping wound in her chest they left behind.

Which made it all the more offensive when her _actual_  soul mark showed up a few months after her seventeenth birthday, a sparrow in flight on the inside of her right arm.

It's fairly unobtrusive, easily covered by most shirts. The only time she has to worry about it is when she's working out, but even that's not too bad. There are plenty of products created specifically to disguise and conceal soul marks, not just for arms but for anywhere on the body. Jyn must not be the only one who distrusts the system, though plenty of people simply prefer to keep their marks private.

So yeah, you could say she's opposed to the institution as a whole. She's certainly not looking for hers, whoever they might be.

Who needs a soulmate anyway?

* * *

She does get fired from her Starbucks job, good damn riddance, ano by Thursday she's itching for another fight.

Luckily, she has one lined up.

Cassian is just as quiet and composed as before, his gaze shrewd as he watches her calculate her moves. Jyn can't tell if her frustration makes her sloppy or if he's on the offense more tonight than he was last time, but she finds herself slipping up more. Taking hits she could have avoided, losing ground she didn't have to give up.

Her frustration mounts until at last she has to hold up a hand, bracing her hands on her knees and hoping he'll chalk the flush in her cheeks up to exertion. She prefers to be as closed a book as possible, and letting herself take her anger out on some stranger is-- well, it feels as if she's giving too much away.

"Again?" Cassian asks.

Jyn is gratified by his breathlessness. At least she's not making it _too_ easy on him.

"Again," she agrees, rolling her neck and stretching out her shoulders. This time when her arms come up and they begin circling, Cassian looks as if he wants to say something else.

"What is it?" She prods, knowing she might regret asking but unable to stop herself. He speaks so infrequently, if he has something to say she wants to know what it is.

"Nothing," he hedges.

She frowns. "That's not a nothing face. You've got something to say, say it."

He hesitates. "I'll tell you what it is if you can pin me."

Jyn's eyes narrow, her jaw set tense. Raw anger might make her measy but a challenge never fails to bring the world into sharp focus.

"Deal."

It only takes her six moves to get him on the ground, cheek against the mat, her knee in his back, and he huffs in amusement.

"Alright, alright," he says, and she lets him up.

"So?"

"So what?"

She crosses her arms. "We made a deal."

"Ah." He pushes himself up slowly, wincing. "I was only thinking that whoever pissed you off better watch their backs."

Jyn purses her lips. It's nice to know someone still thinks she's a force to be reckoned with, despite the fact that she has no income, no recommendations, and no degree to fall back on. It loosens something in her chest to know that she's not been left with _nothing_. Not completely.

"The list of people who _haven't_ pissed me off is much shorter," is all she says. He gives her that smile again, fleeting and closed-lipped.

"I hope I'm on it," he says.

It sounds enough like flirting that Jyn bristles. All she wanted was a sparring partner, not to get hit on. She'd thought she'd found that and it's disappointing to think she was wrong.

Still, that's not completely fair. He hasn't been lewd or arrogant, hasn't held back because of her gender or her size. At least when they're fighting, he's treated her like an equal. Given her a fair fight when she desperately needed one.

"Jury's still out," she says at last. "I'll be here Saturday morning if you want another chance to get on the short list."

His smile widens.

"Saturday, then."

"Sure." She slings her bag over one shoulder, twisting and untwisting the cap of her water bottle. "See you."

"Have a good night, Jyn."

"You too."

* * *

On Saturday Cassian shows up with another man in tow-- tall and wiry, with dark skin and round-framed glasses and an impressively expressionless face as he takes stock of her.

"This is Kay," says Cassian. "Kay, Jyn."

"I assumed as much," he says, his voice as blank as his face.

Jyn almost doesn't realize it means Cassian has told his friend about her.

Almost.

"Cassian says you can kick his ass," says Kay. Cassian bends down over his gym bag, but the back of his neck is red and it gives him away.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. But I find it statistically improbable."

Jyn can feel her face hardening. "Is that so."

"I've seen Cassian fight," Kay continues, apparently oblivious to the ice in her tone. Cassian looks between them warily but doesn't intervene, which speaks a lot to his trust in Jyn's restraint. She's not sure what she did to earn that. "The odds of anyone without military training beating him are minimal."

"Kay doesn't cope well with facts he can't reconcile to logic," Cassian tells her. "I told him he could come watch and he'd see the indisputable proof."

"I need to reevaluate the data for myself."

"He wouldn't shut up about it," Cassian adds in a low voice, just for Jyn. She flashes him a smile and he looks about as startled by it as she feels, both of them frozen with their heads bent toward each other, eyes locked.

"You won't even know I'm here," Kay says, oblivious. It shakes Jyn out of whatever strange trance she was in and she coughs.

"I doubt that very much."

"I can tell him to go if--"

"No, it's fine." She stretches her arm across her chest, feeling herself begin to loosen up. Kay's eyes snap to the armband covering her soul mark and she drops her arm quickly. "Ready whenever you are."

Cassian nods and takes up his stance. "Alright then."

They go a few rounds, trading wins back and forth. Jyn takes the first two, Cassian, the two after that. By the fifth one, she's drenched with sweat but her body is humming with satisfaction. It's the first fight she's really been able to let her mind lead rather than her emotions, and she's doing much better for it.

It also gives her a chance to assess Cassian's fighting style more. He's very adaptable, much better with improvisation than she is. Though she may have more training, with patterns and blocks of moves ingrained in her muscles, it feels as if he's learned by _doing_. By facing opponents and learning to react, to judge their weaknesses and aim for them.

Halfway through the last set, Kay pipes up.

"You favor your left side too much."

Jyn starts to snap back at him, but before the words spill out of her mouth she considers this.

"It's my dominant side," she tells him calmly, albeit through gritted teeth.

"Every time Cassian has turned the tide in his favor, it's because he's gone for your right," says Kay, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "But why would you take my advice? I've only been analyzing your every move for the past two hours."

Jyn looks at Cassian, who is struggling not to smile.

"I'll take that under consideration," she grumbles reluctantly.

But when Cassian _does_ go for her right, she's unable to sidestep fast enough and he takes her down, landing on top of her and pinning her wrists to the floor by her head.

"What do you know," he laughs, breathless. "Maybe we should work on your right side some more next time."

Jyn works to catch her breath, tries not to wonder what it would feel like to have his weight on top of her like this with different intent.

"Maybe we should," she agrees, refusing to let herself be cowed.

Cassian seems to realize that he's still holding her down unnecessarily, and shifts his weight to the side, letting her sit up.

He rubs the back of his neck self-consciously, staring at the floor. "Sorry."

"No worries," she says lightly, standing and offering him a hand up. He takes it, masking his surprise quickly (but not quickly enough she missed it).

"I tried to tell you," Kay says. Jyn glowers.

"You've made your point."

Cassian laughs and touches her shoulder gently. "I thought Kay and I would stop somewhere for lunch. Would you care to join us?"

Jyn cocks her head, wonders if this is a good idea.

But-- she _is_ hungry.

"I could eat."

He bites back on his smile, keeping it small, and she finds herself wondering what it would be like if he let it off its leash.

"Good."

They find a sandwich shop not too far from the gym and Jyn learns more about the both of them. Cassian, as it turns out, is a graduate student studying anthropology. Kay is his roommate and working on his _doctorate_ , and for a brief moment she feels self-conscious about her education again.

"What do you do?" Cassian asks her. It's a perfectly natural question but it still raises the hair on the back of her neck.

"I got fired from Starbucks last week," she says evenly. Chin high.

The corners of Cassian's mouth quirk upward. "No wonder you had so much fight in you."

Jyn bites the inside of her cheek to keep from returning what little smile he offered.

"I might not be cut out for customer service positions."

"You're too prickly," Kay agrees. She works very hard not to want to punch him. When she looks to Cassian, he's giving her a look of understanding, like this is a feeling he has to fight often.

"I hope you find something that suits you better," is all he says.

She swallows, thrown by his sincerity.

"Thanks." She takes a long sip of her drink. "I do too."

* * *

After that it's like she's made a friend. Well, two friends if you count Kay, which Jyn goes back and forth about.

It becomes an unspoken assumption that they'll meet a few times a week, sometimes sparring, other times working with weights and strengthening Jyn's right side. It's a few weeks later when Jyn is on one of these machines, waiting for Cassian to show, that Chirrut approaches her.

"I have a message for you. It seems Mr. Andor is too sick to come to the gym tonight."

Jyn ignores the way her hopes drop.

"Why should I care?" She grunts, putting extra force into her next rep.

"I wondered the same thing," says Chirrut innocently. "Don't make that face."

"You can't see my face."

"No but I can _feel_ it. You're allowed to let someone think you like them, you know. People enjoy each other's company all the time. It's only human, Jyn."

"Leave her alone," says Baze, fondly exasperated. Jyn tosses him a grateful eye roll and he smirks at her. "You're a personal trainer, not a life coach."

"I'm simply offering her some sage advice."

"You're meddling." Baze shakes his head, then turns to Jyn. "Has he asked you about the teaching position yet?"

"No." She sets the weights down and sits up straighter. "What teaching position?"

"We're hoping to offer some self-defense classes for different ages," Chirrut tells her. "It would be part-time at best, a few days a week. We think you would be suited to the job."

Jyn wets her lips. "Did anyone put you up to this?"

"No," Baze says, frowning.

"We've seen how you compensate for your size and stature in a fight."

" _I've_  seen."

"Fine, I've _sensed_ it," Chirrut amends, his good cheer slightly affected. "Don't any of you understand figurative speech?"

"I could use the work," Jyn admits. "I've never been good with people--"

"Perhaps you'll do better when they see you as the expert." Baze shrugs. "It's worth a try."

"Okay," she agrees, tentative. "If you're sure."

Chirrut grins at her. "I have a good feeling about it. And my good feelings are never wrong."

Jyn bites her lip.

"Speaking of good feelings.-- you wouldn't happen to have Cassian's home address, would you?"

"I'm sure it's on file," Chirrut says, sly.

"We can't abuse our clients' confidence like that," Baze reprimands him. Chirrut gives him a look and they have a silent stare off for a moment before Baze relents. "But seeing as Jyn is an employee now, I'm sure she would have access..."

Jyn grins. "You're such a softie, Malbus."

"I've been telling myself the same thing for years."

* * *

If Kay is surprised to find Jyn at his door, he doesn't show it. He simply looks down at the container of soup in her arms (which she'd bought from one of her favorite restaurants; she has no interest in making Cassian _more_ ill just because she tried to cook for him) and says, "He's in his room."

"Okay." She follows him in and toes her shoes off. "Microwave?"

"There." He points. "It works like you would expect."

"Thanks," she says, dry. Kay shrugs and knocks on a closed door down the hall.

"Cassian, you have a visitor." He must receive some response because he opens the door slightly, not enough for Jyn to see inside, and pokes his head in. "Jyn," she hears him say. Followed by, "You look terrible. You might not want her to see you."

Jyn smiles to herself, focusing on not exploding the soup as she heats it up.

"There's a thirty four percent chance you'll catch what he has," Kay tells her, standing awkwardly in the kitchen behind her. As if he's possibly never been in that room before. "I advised against letting you see him but he insisted."

She wants to smile again but checks herself. "As always, I appreciate your straightforwardness."

"People never say what they mean," he sighs before disappearing to parts unknown. She's searching their drawers for a bowl and some spoons when Cassian shuffles in, looking less put together than she's ever seen him. He has dark circles under his eyes and his bright red nose stands out against his abnormally wan skin.

"Kay is right. You do look terrible."

He glares at her. "I'm not well."

"I can see that." She finally finds a bowl and pointedly doesn't make eye contact when she says, "I brought soup."

He pause and she can feel his eyes on her back again, so much like that first night they met. "That was kind of you," he says at last. "You didn't have to--"

"I know. I wanted to."

"Oh." He shivers. "Do you mind if we eat in the living room? I have blankets there."

"It's your apartment."

He ducks his head. "Right. It's this way."

She settles on the other end of the couch from him, trying not to laugh as he bundles himself up in three or four blankets like a very sickly, very cute burrito.

"We have Netflix," he offers awkwardly as they sip at their soup. "Or--" He flushes. "I've been watching a lot of HGTV today."

Jyn has to smile at that. "I could watch some _House Hunters_."

"I think it's _Property Brothers_ right now," he says apologetically, flipping to the right channel.

"Every time I see the one, I just want to fight him," Jyn says, tucking her feet underneath her. Cassian gives her an amused look.

"Are you saying that's out of character for you?"

"More than I want to punch other people when I see them," she amends. He laughs.

"The realtor one?"

" _Yes_."

"He has a very punchable face," Cassian agrees.

They get through a couple of episodes before he starts to sweat, dumping the blankets on the floor and tugging repeatedly at the collar of his shirt.

"You can take it off if you need to," Jyn says as casually as she can, keeping her eyes fixed on the TV. "I won't be scandalized," she adds when he doesn't speak or move.

"It's impolite," he hedges, and she huffs in irritation.

"You're sick. I'll let it slide."

Cassian looks like he's going to argue again but she fixes him with a glare and after a long pause, he reaches back for the collar and tugs it over his head and off. Jyn does _not_ blush but she can't help stealing glances at him out of the corner of her eye, curious and slightly intrigued by the toned muscle on display.

He drags a hand through his sweaty hair, seemingly more uncomfortable than she is. Which he should be; he's the sick one.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he says, at the same time that she says, "I need more soup."

They look at each other for a moment but she's the first one to move, up and into the kitchen where she can hopefully collect herself. She's not a teenager with her first crush. She's been with men before. This one shouldn't be different just because she likes him.

When she thinks it's safe to go back in, she expects to see Cassian's seat vacant, expects him to be holed up in the bathroom. Instead, he's sitting where she left him, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, head bowed as if he's trying to gather himself too. From this angle she can see the broad expanse of his back and normally she'd take the opportunity to appreciate the definition there.

As it is, her eye is drawn instead to the soul mark just above his left shoulder blade. Dark and gleaming in the fluorescent light-- a sparrow. Just like hers.

She makes a strangled noise and Cassian whips around, eyes wide.

"You saw mine that first night," she accuses, horrified. He stands, wobbling slightly, but puts his hands up to placate her.

"I did," he admits. "Jyn--"

She shakes her head, cutting him off. "I have to go."

"Jyn."

His voice is pleading but there's a ringing in her ears she can't silence.

"No. I have to-- I have to go. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize."

She ducks her head, shame making her throat tight. "I'm sorry anyway," she says, and hurries out of the apartment.

What she's apologizing for, she's not certain. It could be, _I'm sorry I can't handle this_. Or it could be, _I'm sorry I'm your soulmate_. Either way, she feels small and vulnerable the whole way home, Cassian's wounded expression all she can see.

* * *

She thinks about avoiding the gym, but she works there now. She can't stay away forever.

Still, the first time she goes back a couple of days later, she's jumpy. Waiting for every person walking by to be Cassian, waiting for him to show up and make her talk to him.

Which she can't deny she _wants_  to do. She feels badly for the way she reacted. And she does _like_ Cassian. It's a lot of pressure, knowing he's her soulmate, but-- it doesn't feel like she thought it might. The mark feels like a good omen, a confirmation of what she was already starting to feel, not a directive to rebel against.

And she wants him to know that, if only she could speak to him.

It's not until the end of the week that he shows up, trepidation in his posture, his face cautious. Her heart speeds up at the sight of him and that's more encouraging than anything else.

"Hi."

"Hi." He clears his throat. "I'd still like to spar, if you're willing."

"I'm willing."

The sparring room is vacant for once, the silence deafening.

She's trying to figure out how to broach the subject when he says, "We don't have to talk about it."

Her head snaps up. "What?"

Cassian clears his throat. "I don't expect-- anything. I never did. I only-- I wanted to know what you were like. And then when you were-- I didn't know how to tell you."

Jyn gives him a wry smile. This, she does understand.

"If I'd known yours matched, I might not have agreed to spar with you. I can be too stubborn for my own good."

"I've noticed," he teases, light. "Anyway, like I said, I don't expect-- This doesn't have to mean--"

Jyn smiles. It's unlike him to be so flustered he loses track of his words. It gives her the confidence she needs to interrupt him and say, "If you can pin me, you can take me out to dinner."

Cassian blinks at her, processing. "And if you pin me?"

"I take you out to dinner."

A smile blooms so quickly on his face he doesn't even have time to keep it in check. It's wide and soft and _bright_. Her heart does a strange stutter-step.

"Just to see where it goes," she tacks on hastily. He nods, trying to get his smile under control.

"I can live with that."

He pins her in two moves.

Jyn grins up at him, the least disappointed she's ever been to lose at anything.

"Where would you like to go to dinner?" He asks, leaning over her and smirking.

Instead of answering, she leans up and kisses him, hard and fierce and a little off center. He looks so awestruck when she moves away that it's still the best kiss of her life.

"Just wanted to get that out of the way," she says, smug.

Cassian clears his throat and lets her up. "I think you may have won that one after all."

* * *

"Are you _smiling_?" Chirrut asks when she comes into work the next morning. Jyn tries to rearrange her face and fails.

"How can you even tell?"

Chirrut beams at her. "I told you. My good feelings are never wrong."

Jyn looks down at her armband, lying unused in her bag.

"No," she says, smiling again. "Not so far, anyways."

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](http://katchyalater.tumblr.com)!


End file.
